(And Why It Is Okay to Miss Them)**

I want to start with a truth that does not get talked about enough. When you begin leaning into a vegan or plant centered life, the hardest part is rarely the recipes or the grocery lists or even the social situations. The hardest part is the tug on your heart that asks you to let go of foods that feel woven into your identity.

It feels silly at first. I remember thinking that I should not be emotional about frozen meals from the eighties. Yet there I was, standing in front of the freezer section at the grocery store, staring at a bright red Stouffer’s box and feeling something tight in my throat.

That little tray of mac and cheese was not just a side dish from childhood. It was sleepovers with my best friend. It was the after school ritual where I would come home, drop my backpack, and heat one up before curling onto the couch. It was comfort when the world felt confusing. It meant safety and routine and love even if no one said any of that out loud.

So when I decided to walk toward a vegan lifestyle, I expected the big emotional moments to show up around animals or health or climate. I did not expect grief to show up in front of a box of mac and cheese in aisle seven.

Yet there it was.

And I want to tell you this because I think you might have felt it too.

You might have felt it the first time you passed the cheese aisle and realized that everything looked familiar but you were not reaching for any of it. You might have felt it when your kids came home with a slice of pizza from a birthday party and you remembered how many times pizza meant fun and belonging when you were young. You might have felt it most during the holidays when the entire family gathers around foods that have been passed down for generations and almost all of those recipes start with butter or sour cream or milk because that is just what everyone has always done.

Letting go of foods is not really about food. It is about letting go of the person you were when you ate them.

And that deserves to be honored.

Not forced. Not rushed. Not dismissed with a “you will get used to it.”
Honored.

I want to share what helped me move through this grief in a way that felt gentle and empowering. And I want you to walk away from this knowing that if you have ever felt sad or nostalgic or conflicted while shifting into a plant based life, there is nothing wrong with you. You are not weak. You are not dramatic. You are not failing at being vegan. You are simply human.

The grief is real even if people around you do not understand

I remember one Thanksgiving where someone said to me in a very well meaning way that I should not be upset because I could just bring my own food. I smiled and nodded because that is what I learned to do when people do not get it. But inside I felt this wave of sadness.

I was not sad about bringing my own dish. I do that all the time. I was sad because all the dishes on the table were part of my childhood. They were recipes I grew up watching my relatives prepare. They were flavors that belonged to the story of our family. And even though I have created my own traditions now, a part of me wanted to feel connected to those old ones too.

People do not always understand that when you give up animal products, you are also giving up foods that shaped your earliest memories. Foods that made you feel loved. Foods that signaled a celebration or a moment of rest or a sense of belonging.

So if no one has said this to you yet, I want to say it clearly.
Your grief is real.
Your grief is valid.
Your grief is not a sign that moving toward a vegan lifestyle is the wrong choice.
Your grief is simply a reflection of how deeply you love.

You can miss something and still know you are making the right choice

This part felt like a revelation for me. I had this idea that if I truly believed in this lifestyle, I would never miss anything from before. I expected myself to have perfect discipline and zero cravings and total clarity.

That is not how humans work. And honestly, that is not how transformation works either.

I can still smell the exact scent of those pizza parties from my childhood. The warm cardboard box. The steam rising up when we lifted the lid. The sound of everyone laughing because pizza always meant fun. Sometimes when I pass a pizza place today, that memory rises up so clearly that it feels like time traveling for a moment.

For a long time I thought that missing those memories made me less committed. Now I understand that missing something does not mean you want it back. It means it mattered.

This is true for so many things in life. You can miss an old job but still know it was not your calling. You can miss an old relationship but still understand that it was not healthy. You can miss a version of yourself but still know you have grown past her.

Letting go of childhood foods is no different. You can miss the flavor or the tradition or the memories and still move forward with grace and confidence.

Your taste buds are not frozen in time

One of the most fascinating things I learned early on is that taste buds regenerate. They renew themselves as we age. They adapt to new flavors and textures. They shift based on what we give them consistently.

It is not your imagination. Foods you loved as a kid may not taste the same now even if you still eat them. Your taste buds have grown up.

This truth gave me so much peace because it helped me understand that my love for mac and cheese was never really about the actual flavor. It was about everything that surrounded it. The ritual. The comfort. The emotion.

Once I knew that, I started asking myself a different question. Instead of “How do I replace that exact taste” I asked “How do I recreate that feeling.”

That question opened up a world of possibilities.

The feeling came from warmth and salt and creaminess and ease. The feeling came from something that filled my belly and helped my nervous system relax. The feeling came from the permission to pause.

And I realized I could create that feeling in so many ways that had nothing to do with dairy.

If you have not found your favorite vegan version of certain foods yet, that is okay. Finding the perfect swap takes time. But the feelings those foods brought you can be recreated right now.

Your comfort does not depend on a frozen tray from childhood. Your comfort depends on how willing you are to nurture yourself in new ways.

The holidays bring all the feelings to the surface

The holidays are where this grief hits hardest for so many vegan curious moms. Dairy shows up in almost every family recipe. Butter in the mashed potatoes. Sour cream in the casseroles. Milk in the rolls. Cheese on the appetizers. Heavy cream in the desserts. And most people do not think twice about it because they never had to.

It can feel isolating. It can feel like everyone else is speaking the same language and you are the only one who learned a new one.

I remember a Christmas where the table looked exactly the same as it had my entire life. Everyone reached for the dishes in the same order they always did. Everyone told the same stories. Everyone laughed the same familiar laugh.

And I sat there with my plate of plant based food feeling both proud of myself and also unexpectedly sad. I felt the distance between the person I had been and the person I was becoming. I felt the tension between tradition and transformation.

That moment surprised me. I thought giving up dairy would be a purely practical choice. A health choice. A values choice. I did not expect it to feel like losing a small piece of childhood.

And if you have ever felt this at a holiday table, I want you to know something. You are not grieving food. You are grieving identity. You are grieving tradition. You are grieving connection.

This grief is not a sign that you should go back to eating the way you used to. This grief is a sign that you are becoming someone new and you are allowed to take your time getting to know her.

New traditions are not replacements. They are expansions.

When I first tried to veganize my holiday favorites, I wanted everything to taste exactly like the originals. That pressure was so heavy. I wanted to impress my family. I wanted to avoid the polite smiles. I wanted proof that my decision was valid. I wanted the comfort of familiarity.

But over time I realized that the magic of holidays never lived in the food. The food was just the vehicle. The magic lived in the gathering. The memories. The warmth. The intention.

When I finally let go of the idea that my plant based dishes had to taste identical to the dairy versions, everything softened. I felt creative again. I felt playful again. I felt like holiday meals were not a test. They were an invitation.

Some of the dishes were huge wins. Some were not. Some were met with enthusiasm. Some were met with confused glances. But all of them were mine. They represented who I was becoming.

New traditions do not erase old ones. New traditions show your family that growth is possible. They show your kids that you can honor the past while still choosing something different for the future.

Your kids will remember the feeling of the holidays more than the exact flavor of a casserole. You are creating a story they will tell someday. And that story will include a mom who followed her heart even when it was hard.

If I can move through this grief, you can too

I want you to know that nothing about this journey has to be perfect. You do not need to force yourself to be unemotional about food that shaped you. You do not need to pretend that this transition is easy just because it is the right choice for you. You do not need to rush your process.

You are allowed to miss things. You are allowed to feel nostalgic. You are allowed to feel frustrated that dairy is in almost everything. You are allowed to feel tender during the holidays. You are allowed to feel proud and sad and excited and overwhelmed all in the same breath.

And you are allowed to keep going.

Here is what I know for sure. If you stay curious and gentle with yourself, something beautiful happens. You begin to see that you are not losing anything. You are gaining something far more meaningful.

You are gaining clarity about your values.
You are gaining confidence in your choices.
You are gaining new traditions that your kids will carry forward.
You are gaining a deeper connection to your body and your intuition.
You are gaining the freedom that comes from living in alignment.

If I can walk through the grief of letting go of childhood comfort foods, you can too. Not because I am special. Not because I have superhuman willpower. But because this grief is designed to be moved through. It is not meant to stay stuck inside you. It is meant to guide you toward the next version of yourself.

You are not just changing your diet. You are changing your story.

And you are doing it with courage.
You are doing it with intention.
You are doing it with love for yourself and your kids.

I am proud of you. Truly.

And you have permission to miss the mac and cheese. You have permission to miss the pizza parties. You have permission to miss the holidays of your childhood. Missing them does not pull you backward. Missing them means you are alive to the moment you are in now.

You are becoming someone new.
You are stepping into a gentler way of living.
You are giving your kids a story they will tell with pride.
And you are doing it with heart.

If you ever find yourself standing in the grocery aisle staring at an old familiar box and feeling that lump in your throat, remember this. You are not grieving food. You are honoring the journey that brought you here.

And the woman you are becoming is worth every tender moment along the way.